Fields of Innocence
by Strawb-sama
Summary: An Aya one shot while he's writing. It's werid, dramatic, and has no plot. Re-uploaded because of some typos I wanted to fix.


Well hello all! Um... yeah... reviews'd be nice. Flames accepted. Not appreciated, but accepted.  
  
Disclaimer: They're. Not. Mine. I also don't own the song "Fields of Innocence" by Evanescence.   
  
Dedication: my second dedicated fic goes to my boyfriend, Scott. I can't stress enough how much what you do for me means to me. And how much I couldn't live without it. You've been my long time good friend, Kid, love you.  
  
Fields of Innocence by Strawb-sama  
  
He shook his pen and sighed. Nothing came easily anymore, did it?  
  
And then came a noise. A noise so small and subtle, and yet so magnified by the eerie silence, that it made Ran jump out of his seat, slam his journal shut, and hastily sit on it.  
  
Listening intently, he sighed and placed the book in his lap once again.   
  
"All right, Fujimiya. You're being paranoid. No one's home. They won't find you."  
  
Ever since he'd been fifteen, Ran had been paranoid about letting anyone see him write. He'd been teased in ninth grade by so many people- people telling him it was such a girly activity.  
  
"Are you gay, Fujimiya?" The voices resounded in his mind like sound waves. "Come on, sing us a faggot song like the ones you write. Recite us a poem, Ran! Maybe you'll attract one of us!"  
  
Ran viciously pushed his blood red pen to the paper, harder and harder as the flow of memories became deeper. They just didn't stop.   
  
"Guys, look!" one tall boy called out. Ran kept his head bent downward, eartails hanging in his face like limp noodles. "It's Fag Fujimiya! Where's your purple velvet notebook? Where's your feather pen, Ran? I want you to write me a song! I want you to write me a love story!"  
  
But in some ways, childhood had been so much better. It really had. Ran had never killed when he was young. He hadn't ever known what it felt like to have the disgusting warmth of somebody else's crimson blood flowing over his hands.  
  
He pondered a minute, then touched his pen to paper.  
  
"They say ignorance is bliss. I think they're right. Whoever they are, they always seem to make true statements."  
  
His kanji was furiously written and barely legible, but the brilliant vermillion hue made for a dashing effect.  
  
"It's really disturbing, sometimes, the knowledge I have today. It's so much different than what I had as a child. I can still remember the days when my head was filled with the knowledge of algebra. With exponents and hypotenuses. With subordinate clauses and linking verbs. With ancient Japan history. I carried the facts of gossip- if there is such a thing. I can still remember in tenth grade when Ishikdo Ayaka walked around the whole day with a sweatshirt tied around her waist, and the rumor was that there was a giant red stain on her skirt. Later, when we found out it was nothing of the sort, we felt stupid, but it had still beem amusing while it lasted."  
  
He shook his head. It seemed so stupid. He could hardly recognize the boy he used to be. It seemed disbelieving that there had once been knowledge in his head that wasn't about Weiss.  
  
"But I am corrupted by what I know now. My knowledge of death, of blood, and tears, and crime- it's like cancer. It slowly entered into my brain, in small amounts at first, then increased its quanities. And it ate away at all the previous knowledge I posessed. As all cancer begins, it destroyed the little things to begin with. I began to forget math, and science, and rumors and gossip. And as the cancer got stronger, I forgot more things. More important things, like how to laugh. How to care. How to love.  
  
"I suspect it will continue to act in its previous manner. As I gain more Weiss knowledge, as I become more deeply involved with my job, I will forget everything I ever was. Weiss will take over and I will be worse than dead.  
  
"I will be souless.  
  
"I remember in a book I read one time, there were these creatures*. They were called Dementors and when they administered their fatal kiss to you, they would suck out your soul. You'd be worse than dead. You'd be nothing more than a cracked, lifeless shell of a being: still alive, but absolutely no reason to go on.  
  
"That will become me."  
  
It was partially his own fault, and he knew it. He made the choice to go into the line of work. No matter how much he told himself it was to avenge his Aya-chan, the words had never and would never be truthful. If he said them enough times, he might make himself believe them, but that didn't make them true.  
  
"There really isn't a such thing as truth anymore," wrote Ran. "It's like when you lose a yen in the sand. It's so hard to find, and it seems like it's vanished. It's there, shining brightly and beautifully, but it's under all the sand, so no one sees its radiance.  
  
"That'd be nice. To go back to the days when I played in the park, in the sandbox. With the sun on my back, and bright in my amythest eyes. But no matter how much I wish I could go back, no matter how much I cry about it, the tears will never wash away the bloodstain of reality."  
  
Ran placed his pen in his lap, closed his notebook, and sighed. He'd never realized how much blood was a part of his life, both literally and spiritually.  
  
Fields of Innocence- Evanescence  
  
I still remember the world from the eyes of a child.  
  
Slowly those feelings were clouded by what I know now.  
  
Where has my heart gone?  
  
And I'd even dream for the real world.  
  
Oh I, I want to go back to believing in everything and knowing nothing at all.  
  
I still remember the sun always warm on my back.  
  
Somehow it seems colder now.  
  
Where has my heart gone?  
  
Trapped in the eyes of a stranger.  
  
Oh I, I want to go back to believing in everything.  
  
Where has my heart gone?  
  
And I'd even dream for the real world.  
  
Oh I, I want to go back to believing in everything.  
  
Oh where, where has my heart gone?  
  
Trapped in the eyes of a stranger.  
  
Oh I, I want to go back to believing in everything.  
  
I still remember. 


End file.
